Thorns In My Mind
by adromir
Summary: A Vignette. A sequel to 'Trauma'. Legolas' POV after he was violated by those men.


**Summary : A vignette. An extension to 'Trauma'. Legolas' POV after he has been violated by those men.**

**Hello everyone! Surprise to see me? Yeah, I'm surprised myself to see me here this early. He! He!**

**This story is based on 'Trauma', the one where Leggy was…err…'touched'. And I warn you, this one is loaded with angst! I made this fic especially for those of you who have been asking for more and more angst since my previous fic is quite tame. LOL! **

**So, enjoy!**

**Note**** : This is Leggy's POV after 'that' incident (A first for me since I never wrote a POV before. So please excuse any flaws or errors.)**

**WARNING**** : Non-con scene (in short; rape) ahead, but not in clear detail. So if you do not agree with this, please do not read and come complaining afterwards. **

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The hideous nightmare returns once more.             

I know it is just a dream, only a torturous play of my mind, but still I can't escape it no matter how hard I use my wits to brush it away. It is as if I am reliving that horrible black day all over again.

I can feel the men's rough hands holding me down, subduing me, leaving me completely at their mercy. Only a moment ago they have stripped me to the skin, leaving me bare and vulnerable, totally exposed to their roving hungry eyes.

I struggle. I fight. I kick and jab and buck, but my efforts are all for nothing. Those men are stronger than me. They are bigger, more muscular to my lean and lithe frame. I shout obscenities at them in every language I know, but that only make them laugh in amusement. 

My captors are actually enjoying this. My predicament is their pleasure. My defiance is their excitement. My pain is their delight. My humiliation is their pride. They become evilly twisted in their ambition to get what they want, not caring that they are creating the worst destruction ever done on an Eldar like me.

Jongos's ugly face leers above me as he repeats the same questions that they have been asking me since I was brought into this room, "Where is he? Where is the boy? _Where_ is the heir of Isildur? Tell me!"

I shake my head, turning my face away. I can feel sweat running down my temple. I can feel the sharp coldness of the floor beneath my skin. Yet, I can also feel the great heat of my burning fury from deep within my chest.

"Never!" I spit back at Jongos, the man who leads this group of ruffians.

He just smiles in glee, as if he wants me to give him such an answer, as if he has been waiting expectantly to get the reason to punish me for saying so. "Very well," says he. "Let the fun begins."

And they do. They have absolute fun over me again and again, one after the other. They keep repeating the same questions, but I lose all my strength to answer, knowing that my dignity is torn asunder, my innocence shred to pieces.

I dare not scream or utter any sound even when the agony becomes overwhelming. Keldarion, my elder brother is locked in the other room. I don't want him to hear my distress, my devastation. I want to keep him away from this knowledge. What he doesn't know would not hurt him.

But those men have different ideas it seems. 

The next thing I know, my brother is dragged inside. Keldarion's cobalt blue eyes catch sight of me, and instantly darken into blown-up fury.  Growling, he thrust forward to get to my side but those men grab him and push him down. My brother, a great warrior prince of admirable strength, refuses to submit without a fight, and fight them he does. He twirls and kicks, sending two men sprawling onto their faces. But when he rushes towards me, Keldarion is knocked from behind by a meaty fist to his head. He stumbles and the men subdue him, forcing him to his knees.

Vile strings of expletives come out of Keldarion's mouth as he glares at our captors. Sneering, Jongos snatches a fistful of my brother's long raven hair, saying, "Tell us what we want to know, or your brother will pay!"

Gazing sadly at me, Keldarion looks so torn. I understand his dilemma for I am feeling it too. We have taken oath never to reveal Aragorn's whereabouts. The boy has been foreseen to rise as the vital hope for Middle-earth in the future. The dark forces somehow know this and they will do anything to see the boy dead before he becomes an adult. He is the secret we chose to keep, the human we chose to protect. But never did we think that we would pay such dear price for it all.

Jongos suddenly grabs my ankle, yanking me towards him and saying something about how Keldarion should speed up his decision-making while he has fun with me. I feel the blood drain off my already white face. I can't believe this man still has not get enough fill in ruining me. I try with my waning strength to push him away but I feel so weak, like a newborn kitten. I hear someone scream, long and fill with anguish. It takes me a full excruciating moment to realize that that someone is my brother.

My heart breaks then. Truly, I do not want Keldarion to witness my degradation. I wish I can spare him this ugly sight, but I am a victim as much as he is. I close my eyes, suddenly ashamed to face my brother while praying that the malicious invasion would soon stop. 

As if from afar, I can hear Keldarion begging for Jongos to stop. My brother is helplessly sobbing and crying like never before. This elf, the strong and proud crown prince of our father's kingdom, is pleading in tears for my sake. He has stood resilient even when these men tortured and abused him mercilessly several hours ago. But now, he crumbles at the sight of me being brought down to the lowest position imaginable. I can't help but feel guilty to be the point of his weakness. 

Jongos is heard bargaining with my brother. I listen without fully understanding as Keldarion tells them that Aragorn is hidden among the dwarves in the Misty Mountains. Dwarves? I am confused because I know the human boy is now dwelling among the elves in Rivendell with Lord Elrond's family, but I stay mute. I don't have the will to use my voice anymore. All I want is to stay silent, wallowing in my misery, forever if need be.

Then a pair of arms comes around me, hugging me against a hard yet warm chest. Long gentle fingers run through my hair, stroking my head in tenderness as soft soothing words trickle though my ears. 

I open my eyes to see Keldarion gazing down at me, looking very concern and a tad worried. "Legolas?"

I look around and find out that the men are gone. The dilapidated cabin room that has been our prison for that day is no more. Instead, my spacious and comfortable bedchamber has taken its place. I realize then that I'm in my own bed, still enveloped within my brother's familiar embrace. With a sigh of great relief mix with despair, I bury my head into Keldarion's chest, whimpering, "It's just a dream. It's just a dream."

"Yes, it is. Just a blasted dream," says Keldarion, clearly knowing the kind of nightmares I just gone through. "It won't happen again. I swear it, brother. What have been done to you, I swear I will _not_ let it happen to you again, even if I have to give up my life or my soul."

I look up, not realizing that my cheeks are wet with tears until Keldarion reaches down and brushes them away. "It feels so real," I whisper in a broken voice. Keldarion does not answer to that but keeps gently rubbing down my back in comforting gestures.

I do not ask how he knew I was having those dark dreams. My brother always knows. Ever since I was a young child, Keldarion has always been sensitively attuned to my well-being. He will know when something terrible happens to me, when I get into trouble, or when I am feeling out of sort. Big brother's intuition, I guess.

Sometimes I resent this. I feel as if I will always live under his protective shadow, having not the chance to fend for myself, which is not true. It was just my rebellious streak speaking. 

My elder brother treats me like he would a kite. He would let me fly as high and wild as I wish, but then he would gently reel me in if the wind grows violent or the string goes taut. He and my father give me enough freedom to be my own self, of which I am very grateful. They deeply love me, I know. And yet, I have used their love against them to push them away during the recent days after that cursed tragedy, after we finally managed to escape.

I spoke to no one for many weeks afterwards, keeping my horrific experience to myself. In fact, I never uttered a single sound. Everyone I know was worried. They were scared to see me turn into a lifeless statue of no emotion. Pale and mute. 

Then the worst point in my life came when I attempted suicide. I suddenly felt too tired to go on living. How weak I had become! 

By trying to kill myself, I was actually hurting both my brother and father. Luckily, they asked for Lady Galadriel to speak to me, to put some senses into my head. Then, I began to see light again, even if my life has turned dark around me.

After spending some time in Rivendell with Lord Elrond's family, I thought I was able to put my hellish experience behind me. I've learnt to know Aragorn better, and I've given the boy my oath to always protect him, no matter what. I've also lost my heart to Narasene, a maiden of incredible beauty who is the only niece to Lord Glorfindel, the legendary Balrog slayer. And I know how it feels to laugh again, fooling around with my brother and friends.

But the nightmare suddenly made its visit. I realize then that the incident will always haunts me forever, even if Jongos is now dead by Keldarion's own hands.

"Legolas?"

I look up at Keldarion's voice. My brother's face is without expression as he stares at me. "Come," he says shortly and get off the bed.

Puzzled, I ask, "Where?"

"To the field."

"But it's still dark outside."

Keldarion smiles. He reaches for my sword that hangs by a peg on the wall over my bed. "It will be dawn soon. It is never too early for sword training."

Not long after, we find ourselves in the training field near the palace garden. The sun is yet to make its appearance, while the stars are still bright in the indigo sky. An owl hoots somewhere in the woods around us, breaking through the tranquility. Soft zephyr blows through our long hair as we swing our swords about.

Keldarion charges and I parry, then I attack him and he blocks. He pounces and I twist, while he leaps to evade my next swing. It goes on for quite some time, with us moving the same graceful rhythm for we have been having this kind of practice a thousand times before. We know each other's strength and weakness, but Keldarion has the advantage over me because he has been my teacher. He is now pushing me to overcome that weakness while I struggle mightily to not let him get the upper hand.

Sweats drench our forms as our spar continues on. The both of us have already shed our tunics, annoyed we were at the cumbersome damp garments, sticking to our skin. The sound of clashing swords and our own heavy breathing are loud in our ears, while early birds began to sing in the trees as the sky lighten above our heads.

My arms begin to strain. My muscles start screaming in protest. But I welcome it all, for those pain and discomfort are making me forget my previous nightmare and despair. I am fully concentrated on the game at hand, and my brother seems to be enjoying it as well.

Then I take a wrong step and go stumbling to the ground. Keldarion expertly halts his swing and look at me, his chest heaving. "Are you well?"

Sheepishly, I get to my feet. "I'm fine. I feel stupid, that's all."

And then someone chuckles. We turn and find our father, the king, looking at us from the edge of the field. We do not realize he has been there all along, watching our progress. He comes towards us, clutching his own sword in one hand. "You both are early this morn," he points out. "Now, care to spar with me?"

Keldarion and I glance at each other. "Which one of us would you like to spar with, father?" I ask with a grin.

"How about the _both_ of you?" quips our father. 

My eyes widen while Keldarion breaks into laughter. "I know you would say that!" 

Following our suit, the king also strips to the waist, throwing his shirt into the dirt. Then he take his stance, his grip relax on his sword, before saying, "On your guard, my sons." And he moves.

I quickly block his charge, a little surprise at his swiftness. For someone who has gone through several thousand years of life, our father still moves like a young vital warrior. He slips easily under our swings, twisting this way and that. Keldarion determinedly works to push him down but it is no easy feat. Our father is evenly matched to his eldest son's commendable prowess.

In the end, I find myself lying flat on the ground upon my back, with my throat pin under my father's hard knee. With the right pressure, he can easily crush my windpipe. Keldarion is still standing, though, but his luck is no better. The tip of our father's sword is right upon my brother's left breast. With the right thrust, Keldarion's heart will be impaired.

Yet, it seems that our father does not emerge the sole winner. He notes in chagrin the tip of my sword resting against his kidney, and the sharp blade of my brother's hovering dangerously at his neck. If we move further, the three of us would be in _very_ deep trouble. 

Chuckling, the king lowers his sword and get to his feet. "I guess I'm getting too old for all this," he says as he helps me up.

Keldarion shakes his head in amazement. "But Father, you move like a cat!'

"And have the knee of a balrog!" I complain, rubbing my throat.

Laughing, my father pulls me into his arms. I instinctively return his embrace, resting my head against his shoulder. "Feel better now?" he softly asks after his laughter dies down.

 I pull away and gaze back at him. There is great concern in his eyes, as well as understanding. So, my father is also aware of the nightmares that I have been having. Touched and overwhelmed, I can't stop the tears from welling in my eyes. Unable to speak around the huge lump in my throat, I slowly nod my head.

My father gathers me in his arms once more. "It will come to past, Legolas. Trust me. You will get over it, sooner or later."

Then I feel my brother's hand on my shoulder. "Father is right. Just remember, you are not alone."

I look at them both and smile. I also begin to realize that dawn has just arrived and several warriors have already gathered at the field for their daily practice. They are staring at us, wide eyes and a bit perplexed and amazed. Well, it is not everyday that you can see three half-naked royalties trying to slash one another's throat!

Grinning, I sling my arm over my father and Keldarion's shoulders. "Come!" 

"Where?" the king asks.

"To the stream. I need to bath and get this dirt off my skin."

"But it's still too early," interjects Keldarion. "The water is freezing!"

I laugh. "Oh, Kel. Where is your sense of adventure?"

He rolls his eyes upward. "I don't even know what that word means!"

Also laughing, our father starts to pick up our abandoned tunics from the ground. "Let us go with him, Kel. We had better do what he says."

"Spoiled brat," my brother mumbles.

"The last one there is a stupid orc!" I yell, finding my playful side once more, and I run ahead towards the stream. I hear some muttering of expletives from behind me, and then Keldarion is giving chase. My father is laughing as he follows us, albeit slower. He doesn't seem to care that he is becoming the said stupid orc.

And so, my life goes on. My nightmares still come and go afterwards, but Keldarion and my father are always there to pull me back to life again. After some time, the wound in my heart stops festering while only a scar remains. Alas, I know I am not completely healed, not when half of my soul is already dead. But with my loving family and supportive friends by my sides, I will keep on living. 

Those evil men have not defeated me. 

And _never_ will I let them.

THE END

**To those angst lovers out there, I hope you like that one, even if it's too intense to my taste. Thank you for reading and hope to see you all in my next fic coming next week!**

**See ya!**


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